


5 times people made Bucky smile without saying anything and 1 time he returned the favor

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3859468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky’s head whips up and he’s looking right at Steve, but his face, God, his face, it’s like he doesn’t see Steve at all, he’s seeing someone else, and Steve is horrifyingly sure he knows who Bucky’s seeing, because Bucky’s eyes, they are wide and red-rimmed and so, so scared and Steve’s throat releases this tiny, devastated sound and then…</p>
<p>Alternately, 5 times Bucky was in a bad place and someone made it better. And 1 time Bucky made it better for someone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Various things:  
> First: this is the first fic I've written in YEARS and I'm, erm, slightly nervous. But after watching CATFA and TWS (and AOU and various other movies) A LOT during the last week, I kind of... had to. Still nervous, though.  
> Second: English is not my native tongue and this is un-betaed. So any mistakes are mine and sorry about them! :)  
> Third: None of the characters are mine, they belong to people far more important (and rich) than me, I'm just playing with them. Promise I'll give them back afterwards, slightly ruffled, but I'll give them back...  
> And fourth, a warning: the Stucky is neither explicit nor the focus of this fic, it's more gen with some hints at slash thrown in. This is more a story about people helping poor Bucky out. You have been warned!  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

By the time Steve is finally dismissed, he’s exhausted. Turns out even with the serum the post-mission (post-rescue? Post-disobeying orders? Post-not giving a fuck about what Philipps said ?)… turns out even with the serum post- _mission_ debriefing still tires him out so, so much. He’d really like to go over to the mess tent and see if he can get something to eat, but there’s some things he’s gotta do first. So. Muster some of that super-soldier power, ignore how you’re tired down to your bones, and get to it.

 

Steve checks on the wounded, evades an overzealous doctor who seems eager to join the lines of the many doctors who near tried to bleed him dry and a nurse who’s fluttering her eyelashes so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall clean off. He exchanges some snark with the big fella in the bowler hat, makes sure the rest of the survivors from Hydra’s factory are fine… and then kind of wanders around aimlessly, because he has not a single clue where Bucky is. He’s not with the doctors, he’s not in one of the tents the others got assigned, he’s not in the mess tent, he’s not anywhere. And Steve really, really needs him to be somewhere, because… well.

 

See, Steve doesn’t like talking about it. Doesn’t even like thinking about it, because a) it’s, erm, complicated? And b) he’s a guy, so, not talking about it is kind of… he, well shouldn’t? And c) it’s just, it’s not like that, okay maybe it is, but also there’s Peggy, and she’s… you know? So yeah. Turns out he not only doesn’t like thinking about it, he also kind of isn’t able to.

 

But. d) it’s _Bucky_.

 

And Steve would really like to see him now, right now, see that he’s safe and see that he’s whole and maybe touch him, just to make sure he’s real and there and Steve didn’t lose him, the one thing in his life that has any meaning and the person who’s kind of… his other half, who makes him complete, makes his world a little brighter, like the sun peering through the clouds when he smiles and oh God… So that’s why guys don’t talk about stuff like that.

 

Anyway. Bucky. Nowhere to be found.

 

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping, and turns around to walk back to his tent. Kicks away at a pebble in his path and winces when it dangs off a tank 50 feet away. And it left a dent. Typical. He sighs again. So he’ll try again tomorrow, and now he’ll go to bed. Even super-soldiers need their sleep.

 

He opens the tent flap, frowning to himself, and there’s Bucky.

 

There’s Bucky, sitting on Steve’s cot, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around them, and he looks so small and alone and vulnerable and Steve’s never seen him like that before, even when Bucky’s Ma died and he’s still so… _Bucky_ and Steve is so in love it hurts.

 

And Bucky’s head whips up and he’s looking right at Steve, but his face, God, his face, it’s like he doesn’t see Steve at all, he’s seeing someone else, and Steve is horrifyingly sure he knows who Bucky’s seeing, because Bucky’s eyes, they are wide and red-rimmed and so, so scared and Steve’s throat releases this tiny, devastated sound and then…

 

Bucky flinches and Steve’s heart lurches painfully in his chest (just like before, before the serum, he knows that feeling, but his heart is fine now, he’s fine, but Bucky isn’t and oh God, Bucky) and then he _sees_ Steve, really _sees_ him, and Steve’s heart lurches again when Bucky relaxes.

 

Blows out a breath, runs a slightly shaking hand through his hair and gives Steve the ghost of a smile. Opens his mouth to say something but Steve beats him to the punch, strides over and… punches him for real.

 

What the hell.

 

Okay, in the shoulder, but still, it hasn’t been all that long since… since Zola, and Steve _punches_ him, what the hell?! Steve takes a step back, suddenly horrified, and Bucky… Bucky huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. Punches him in the stomach – not hard – and rolls his eyes again and shakes his head with a little smile. Then he scoots over to make room for Steve to sit down, so he does.

 

And then they’re sitting there, and Steve is so, so glad, he’s exhilarated, feels relief so great it could choke him, that point of contact where their shoulders touch seems to radiate warmth through his entire body. And Bucky’s breath goes in and out, in and out, shaky, and now Bucky’s starting to shake, fine tremors running through his entire frame, rattling the cot and making Steve shake as well.

 

He wraps both arms around his friend, his Bucky, and rolls them over until they’re lying flat and just holds him and pretends he can’t feel the warm wetness against his neck, where Bucky’s face is pressed. They lie there, curled around each other on the narrow cot, neither of them speaking a word until they fall asleep. In the morning, Bucky’s smile is almost like his old ones. Steve’s heart gives that lurch again but this time it doesn’t feel bad at all.

 


	2. Tony (and Bruce)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, thank you very much for reading and commenting and kudos-ing and liking! Really made my morning awesome, when I found the hit count changed from 7 (which were all me, checking to see if it looked like I wanted it to) yesterday evening to 437 when I woke up this morning. So, yay for all of you! (and me :P) And thank you!

The Winter Soldier is in his lab.

 

The _Winter Soldier_ is _in his lab_ and Tony might be freaking out a little. Totally justified, mind, because this is the guy that almost killed Old Capsicle and almost succeeded and Tony’s read his file, he’s read all his files and Jesus fucking Christ, he’s killed so many people, so so many, could probably give Old Tony, weapons-selling Tony a run for his money in regards of the amount of people-killed-by, he’s a fucking weapon, he’s killed for about 70 years, he’s even killed Da-… _don’t think about that. Don’t._

 

Point is, there’s a weapon of mass destruction sitting in Tony’s lab and he’s freaking out. Only a little, though, honest.

 

Sure, Mr. Rabbity Rogers said the guy’s one of the good guys now, totally redeemed, what the fuck ever, but still. Weapon of mass destruction, okay? With flash backs and memory loss and last week he punched a hole through the wall next to Clint’s head because Hawkear startled him and oh look, there’s Bruce.

 

So there’s the Winter Soldier sitting in his lab but now there’s also the guy whose picture should be on any anger management brochure ever (follow these basic steps or you’ll end up like this guy!) totally unobtrusively and innocently counting beakers in the background of Tony’s lab or whatever the fuck he’s pretending to be doing so Tony doesn’t have be alone with the guy who killed his – who killed a lot of people and Tony would totally be in love if that place in his heart hadn’t already been taken and also, it’s totally unnecessary, Bruce, because Tony wasn’t even freaking out.

 

Okay, maybe a little.

 

Anyway! Back to task. Namely, one kind-of broken cyborg arm on a kind-of-but-Steve-says-not-really-the-sap-broken tin soldier.

 

A soldier who’s just sitting there. Curiously silent and stiff and not looking at Tony or anybody or anything, really. Deposited here by Steve (“you can trust him, Bucky! He’ll fix it! He’s like Howard, but, I guess, better?” in that weird, cheerful voice, like a kindergarten teacher who’s trying to convince a shy new kid to meet his new classmates and wow, where did that image come from? Captain kindergarten, the man with an education plan. And probably kind of… fitting? In this situation? Because Barnes, trust issues, brain washing, people whose parents he killed – ah crap, did not want to think about that – and all that stuff. So yeah. Fitting.) and just sitting there. Probably scared out of his mind. Or whatever the ex-Russian, ex-assassin, ex-enemy, ex-something equivalent of being scared is. And Tony, well, he really doesn’t do comforting that well.

 

But! Luckily he’s a genius.

 

So Tony pokes at Barnes arm (totally cool about it, too, not nervous at all, also his armor is like 10 feet away and Jarvis has some tricks up his non-existent sleeve or Tony has some tricks up Jarvis’ sleeve, he’s a genius, and, oh! He has a Hulk!) and talks at Bruce who snorts and banters back and rolls his eyes and pretends he’s annoyed at Tony’s sniping (but totally loves it, Tony can see right through him) and ignores how Barnes watches him from the corner of his eye with an expression that could be puzzlement. Or indigestion, who knows what little Winter Soldiers eat.

 

And Tony fixes the arm (of course he does, _please_ ) and makes sure all the prodding and poking hurts as little as possible (hey, he’s very familiar with foreign objects attached to one’s body, poking around there hurts, also his was _inside his chest_ , so he wins) and maybe shows Bruce (and Barnes, who’s still watching but pretending he’s not) what he thinks might be awesome upgrades to the arm and promises himself a nice big Scotch for when this whole thing is over.

 

When the thing is over, Tony rolls over to his workbench and grabs said Scotch and pours Bruce a glass, too (Bruce shakes his head and says something about “it’s not even noon, Tony” but he takes the glass anyway, so there) and then thinks for a second and pours one for Barnes.

 

Barnes doesn’t take it immediately, though, just looks at it and then at Tony like he’s trying to figure something out. Apparently does, too, because he kind of nods to himself, and then nods at Tony and then takes the glass and clinks it against Tony’s where he’s got it half-raised to his mouth. Swallows it down in one gulp, not even flinching, the jerk, that’s some strong stuff there, and nods at Tony again and does something with his face and then, suddenly, he’s gone. Tony will admit he’s kind of gaping a little, looking at Bruce for confirmation, because that right there, the thing he did with his face, that was a smile, right? The Winter Soldier just smiled at him?

 

Huh. Imagine that. One more way in which Tony is a genius.


	3. Dum-Dum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should remind you that English is a foreign language for me, and 1940s English is even more foreign, so to speak. I didn’t really try and make the people sound like they apparently are supposed to (judging from the Captain America fics I’ve read that take place during this period), because I’d probably have gotten it wrong. So, sorry about that…  
> Additionally, Ishould point out that it was… not easy to write this chapter, because I’m not all that comfortable writing about Nazis, tbh. Did I mention I’m German? I’m not comfortable writing about Nazis. Or Hydra-Nazis, in this case. It’s just… I don’t think I can really explain it, but: I get that it’s a different world here, that it’s all fiction, it’s a fictional version of Nazis, but it’s a little too close to reality, maybe. Still kind of triggers my sense of guilt, even if it was 70 years ago and I wasn’t even born, still feels like “this is what horrible things we Germans did”. Yeah, I had a difficult time writing this. The Hydra-Nazis don’t appear in here all that much, but yeah. I thought I should point that out. So if Dum-Dum’s “reactions” to the Hydra-Nazis seems off to you, that’s why.  
> Oh, and I wrote this fic between something like 3 and 5 a.m. last night. I’m still tweaking a little, therefore it’s not posted all at once. And now this rambling author’s note is finally over, before it gets longer than the chapter itself…

 

 

Rationally, he knows Barnes is not to blame for their current situation. But it’s hard not to blame him, because there’s no one else _here_ to blame. Sure, he could blame the fucking Hydra-Nazis (and he does, those stick-wielding, mask-wearing, whore-faced motherfucking sons of bitches) and the whole fucking US military for sending them knowingly to their deaths and their fucking Captain who was the first to get himself killed in that fucking stupid idea of an attack, but it’s not nearly as satisfying as blaming Barnes.

 

Because that asshole is _here_ , right across from him in that fucking cell, where they all are, or what’s left of them anyway, and they are in a cell, they are so royally fucked. There’s no way out and Tonton is still fucking bleeding, no matter how hard he presses down on the kid’s wound and it’s all so fucked up he can’t do anything but grit his teeth and ignore Tonton’s whimpers and press harder and hate that fucker Barnes with all his might, because if he doesn’t, he’ll probably go crazy. No, scratch that, _definitely_ go crazy.

 

Barnes is sitting there, worriedly eyeing Tonton and doesn’t do a Goddamn thing to help. Fuck, who the fuck made someone that young a Sergeant? Fucking useless _child_ , fuck him. If there’s one more thing that goes wrong right now, he’s gonna snap and he’s gonna break that little fucker’s neck, the krauts won’t even have to bother with Barnes, Dum-Dum will deal with him for them, that little…

 

The cell door gets wrenched open and two black-masked krauts enter. Tim tenses, as do all the others, but he still presses on Tonton’s wound, because fuck, the kid’s white as a sheet now, doesn’t look good, not at all. Fritz One and Fritz Two look around, Dum-Dum tenses even further, but before he can say or do a single thing, they grab his arms and start yanking him towards the door.

 

He fights, twists and kicks and punches, fights with all his might, because Tonton’s still bleeding and he’s oh so pale, he fights and struggles and curses. But they drag him further, drag him away, and there’s yelling and screaming and suddenly, it all stops.

 

Tim lands on the floor with a painful thud, ears ringing. Barnes is standing in the middle of the cell, fists clenched and eyes blazing, glaring at the Hydra goons and doesn’t look like a kid at all. Then he opens his mouth and repeats:

 

“I said, take me instead.”

 

Timm blinks, hard, like the others he’s staring at the Sarge, dumbfounded. Fritz One and Fritz Two look at him, too, then back outside the cell. There’s a tiny man in glasses standing there, staring, with an anticipatory, almost delighted expression on his face that makes Tim shudder.

 

At the tiny man’s nod the goons take Barnes’ arms and start marching him from the cell, Barnes with terrified eyes and tightly-clenched lips. Tim’s still lying there, looking up at the scene. When the trio passes him, he reaches out and grabs Barnes’ leg, the only thing in reach, causing him to stumble. It doesn’t make the goons stop for more than a second, but it’s enough. The Sarge looks down at Tim, Tim looks up at him and right into his eyes. Grips his leg as hard as he can and gives him a grim smile, teeth bared. The Sarge swallows, nods and lets himself be marched from the cell with his head held high.

 

Tonton doesn’t make it. The Sarge doesn’t come back. Sometimes they can hear his screams echo down from where they’ve taken him. Tim grits his teeth and tries really hard not to blame himself.

 

Later, when Captain America – Jesus, seriously? – comes to the rescue and they’re outside, in the woods, surrounded by cheering men, he finds the Sarge and grips his shoulder for a moment. The kid – still so young, really, but not a kid, not anymore – grips Dum-Dum’s shoulder in turn. The smile they share is grim, but it’s a smile.


	4. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided I'm gonna post the rest of the chapters all at once, because, uh. I may have started writing another fic (apparently I have Bucky feels, like a lot of them) and may also be thinking about a third one. So I'll get this one out of the way first... :) Enjoy!

 

 

It’s a bright, warm sunny day, it’s supposedly a wonderful day, but Sam’s not quite sure what to make of all this.

 

The dude, Barnes, Bucky, evaded them for a fucking long time before he got annoyed with Steve’s pig-headed pursuit or with his stupid face or whatever and casually strolled into their apparently not-so-safe safehouse, put down all his weapons and said something that boiled down to “okay, apparently we’re supposed to be best friends, tell me all about it”. Then he didn’t bat an eyelash when The Organization Formerly Known As SHIELD threw him in a cell, poked and prodded him in hundred different ways to make sure he wasn’t suddenly gonna, you know, kill them all. Then he got Fury’s stamp of one-eyed, grudging approval and moved into Steve’s place.

 

And that’s where he’s still at. Works out, wipes the floor with various ex-SHIELD agents and Avengers during training (a.k.a. “let’s see if the guy’s _really_ as good as everyone says, oh wait, everbody’s unconscious already”), wipes the floor with them a little slower so that the higher-ups can actually _see_ in how many ways he’s better than fucking everyone, goes on runs with Steve, works out, cleans knifes and stuff on the kitchen table, makes weapons out of pens and paper clips and oven mitts – totally not creepy at all – and works out some more. And sleeps, presumably. Or maybe not, judging from the sounds that sometimes ring through the apartment when Sam’s there, late at night. Making the hairs on his back rise while he’s trying to focus on teaching Steve about Mario Kart. Fuck. He knows about nightmares, or thought he did, has a lot of them himself, but judging from what Barnes sounds like at night, Sam maybe doesn’t know _shit_.

 

Anyway. Steve’s doing his usual Running Man thing, Sam won’t even try to keep up anymore, no sir. Captain America is currently an ever-shrinking dot wayyy ahead of him and Sam’s totally cool with slowly jogging along the beach on his own. Well, not on his own, because there’s a dark, silent, metal-armed shadow jogging behind him. Which is slightly weird, having the guy who ripped out your wing at your back, not the most comfortable feeling. It’s not scary, per se, because Sam trusts Barnes (kind of, he’s getting there), but… weird. He hasn’t been alone with Barnes ever, is the thing. Doesn’t really know how to deal with him is all. It’s… weird.

 

And totally not the reason he suddenly decides that jogging on the pathway is fine, but jogging on the beach, down by the water, is even better. Sam veers off the path abruptly, making his way across the sand and towards the water. Barnes follows him without missing a step. Huh.

 

Sam carefully pretends it doesn’t freak him out (a little) how Barnes just follows him, running faster when Sam speeds up, slowing down when Sam does, generally just matching his pace to Sam’s and always staying a couple of steps behind him. Why does he do that, anyway? He could just as easily run next to him… and then Sam gets it. Bucky does the same thing with Steve, always walking a step behind Rogers when they’re going somewhere. Eyes roaming, watching their surroundings, assessing threat levels and possible dangers. He’s doing the same thing now. He’s watching Sam’s six.

 

Sam slows his pace, walks the last few steps and then stops completely. He’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, because this? This feels like a fucking breakthrough, like in one of his meetings, which Bucky unsurprisingly refused to go to, this is…

 

Okay, it’s still weird. Because now Bucky’s stopped as well and is looking at Sam with his head cocked and his eyes narrowed, like he can’t figure out why Sam’s suddenly grinning like a lunatic. The eyes narrow even further when Sam toes off his shoes and socks and jumps into the waves, splashing water up his shins. He feels… great, he feels like he could run as fast as Steve right now. Okay, not literally. But hey, breakthrough! And the water feels great, the sun is shining, there’s Steve waving at them from the pathway as he zips by, it’s a wonderful day.

 

Bucky looks at Sam, looks at his own feet, bites his lip and starts taking his own shoes off. He steps closer to the water, cautiously, throwing Sam quick little side glances all the while. He doesn’t go in far, stays right on the edge where the waves meet soft, wet sand and stands there, looking at his feet. Sam watches him while trying to seem like he’s not watching, fascinated by how Bucky’s forehead crinkles, then smoothes over, then crinkles again– like he’s not sure he likes the feeling of sand underneath his bare feet and the water lapping at his toes. Sam looks away just as Bucky throws him another sideways glance and pretends to be engrossed in a distant ship on the horizon. No spooking the traumatized people, Sammy-boy.

 

When he looks back at Bucky a minute later the guy is wriggling his toes in the sand with a little smile on his face. It’s a small smile, a private one, full of wonder and pure, simple enjoyment.

 

Sam smiles and turns away again, sighing softly to himself. The water’ s cool against his shins, the sea gulls are cawing in his ear, the sun is warm on his face. It really _is_ a wonderful day.


	5. Clint

 

 

When he opens the door, Clint realizes that the shooting range is already occupied. Which, okay, it’s not like he’s reserved it or anything, other people can use it too, fine by him, but. It’s three in the morning and usually he’s got the range all to himself at that hour. Wants it all to himself, wants the solitude, wants to lose himself in the aim-and-release, the repetition, calm his aching mind which again has woken him in the middle of the night with dreams of

 

_blue_

 

things long past and dealt with. This doesn’t happen a lot, these days, that he wakes up at night, throat clenched tight around a scream, sitting upright in his bed, in his head still the laughing face of

 

_Loki_

 

his nightmares. And when it happens, when he can’t go back to sleep because he knows what’s waiting there, he comes to the range. And drowns the images in his mind with the twang of his bow until he’s tired himself out enough to be able to sleep and not dream.

 

Now there’s someone already there, which sucks. But yeah, whatever, he can deal. He can still go in and not say a damn word and ignore the other person and maybe they, whoever it is, will leave or at least leave him alone – God, he hopes it’s not Steve. Clint’s really, really not in the mood for awkward chitchat about hey, are you alright and sure, Cap, totally fine, and then those puppy dog eyes that Rogers gets when he doesn’t believe Clint, and he just wants to help, Clint gets it, but he’s fine, he’s _fine_ , okay?!

 

It’s not Steve. It’s Barnes, methodically shredding a paper target showing a stylized human shape with his gun, not even looking at Clint. His stance is rigid, shoulders tense, and his face… Clint knows that look. He’s seen it not 30 minutes ago in his own mirror.

 

Okay then. Clint gets his bow and arrows and gets started.

 

When he comes back to himself after a while, several targets now looking like porcupines rather than human outlines, he notices that the gun fire has stopped. Clint blinks a little, he’s still kind of in the zone, and looks over at Barnes. The other looks a little vague, as if he’s not all there, lost inside his own head. Clint clears his throat and Barnes flinches. He stares at Clint for a second, then looks away again, eyes flitting around the room. Clint shifts, suddenly nervous.

 

Bucky’s gaze lands on Clint’s targets. Actually, one target in particular, where Clint had aimed the arrows so they form a smiley face. Just for shits and giggles. Apparently that’s not something Bucky thinks is funny? Because he’s raising an eyebrow, like he’s saying _seriously_? And Clint raises his eyebrow right back: _so what_?

 

Barnes snorts and shakes his head. Clint scoffs, nods meaningfully towards his smiley face, then towards an empty target and raises both eyebrows in challenge. Barnes narrows his eyes, then a slow, feral smile twists his mouth.

 

The next second he whirls around, whips out his pistol and starts shooting. Clint leans back against the wall and gets comfortable, watching how the bullet holes start forming a smiling mouth.


	6. And One: Steve again

The mission’s been successful. That’s what Steve keeps reminding himself of, because if he doesn’t, he’ll probably break apart. Natasha’s still in surgery, God, Steve shudders when he remembers how the Hulk clambered out of the ruined building, Nat looking so small and fragile and _still_ in his massive green arms. The doctors say it’s going well so far, the surgery, but she’d been so still, so still.

 

Clint’s sitting across from him on one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area, ignoring the nurse trying to get him to get his bruises looked at, staring at the door where they took Natasha. Bruce is next to him, shivering and looking so small. Tony’s not here, but Steve can hear him from the next room, yelling at nurses and doctors and anybody he can find to just tell them _something_ , anything, and Sam’s with him, trying to calm him down. Thor’s eyes are closed and he’s leaning hard against the wall as if he might fall down without its support.

 

And Steve? Steve is sitting there, hands under his legs, so the others won’t see how they’re shaking. The mission’s been successful, he reminds himself. It doesn’t help.

 

A shadow falls on him and he looks up reluctantly. Bucky is standing there, frowning down at him with his arms crossed over his chest. Steve startles and ducks his head, flushing, because Bucky radiates such an amount of disapproval he can almost see it. God, this feels just like back then, when he was little (ha!), when he did something stupid and Buck chewed him out. Still feels like that when Bucky jerks his chin at him and smartly turns around to walk away. Meekly Steve gets up to follow. There he is, 97 years old, and still Bucky can make him feel like a 6-year old sometimes.

 

Bucky leads him to an empty examination room and jerks his head to indicate Steve should sit on the bed. Steve does, swaying slightly. He should probably check on Tony. Sam’s good, but sometimes he’s not enough to calm Tony down when he’s like this. It’s just… he’s so tired.

 

“Ouch!”

 

Steve flinches back and glares at Bucky. Who just poked him on his forehead. Bucky glares right back, raises an eyebrow and shows Steve his finger. Which is red. Huh. Steve can’t even remember getting hurt. Bucky apparently can tell, because he sighs, long-suffering, and sets about cleaning the wound. It’s not exactly necessary, it’ll real, but Steve doesn’t make a move to stop Bucky. He’s kind of glad for the attention, if he’s honest, and Bucky still needs to take care of Steve sometimes, like he always does. Steve sighs and relaxes under his friend’s hands, flinching now and then when he gets poked a little too hard.

 

Bucky’s not exactly gentle, still frowning, and Steve doesn’t get how people sometimes say it’s creepy that he doesn’t show more emotion. Because Steve can read Bucky’s face like his favorite book, there’s affection there and annoyance, there’s a hint of sorrow and yeah, there’s fear. The first two Steve gets, the third one as well, but the fear?

 

And then he remembers how he must have gotten hurt, when he ran into the crumbling building without thinking of anything but Nat, who’d been in there when her com went silent, who was trapped and he’d only thought about getting her out of there. Didn’t even think about himself. Now he gets it.

 

Bucky carefully smoothes butterfly bandages over his forehead, eyes dull with fear and sadness, barely there, but Steve can see it. _Don’t do that again_ , Bucky’s eyes say. _Don’t leave me_. And Steve feels tears prick at his own eyes, because he can’t promise that. If someone needs his help, if he can help in any way, he will. And he won’t think about himself when he does it. He knows that. And he won’t think about Bucky either. He can’t.

 

Steve closes his eyes and shudders. Everything’s crashing onto him at once, the mission, Natasha, the others, the look in Bucky’s eyes, and Jesus, he just needs some space now, something –

 

Hands on his cheeks. A soft exhale of breath on his face. And then, and then… warm lips on his, dry, slightly chapped, just a touch, a feather-light touch. Barely there and gone again immediately. Steve opens his eyes. Bucky’s staring at him, he’s so close, every breath gently strokes over Steve’s face, looking at him. Searching, insecure, hopeful, waiting.

 

And Steve pulls him back in, kisses him and smiles when their lips meet again.

 

 

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that's it. My first fic in YEARS and I've quite enjoyed the ride. Thank you for reading, I hope you liked it!


End file.
